Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Sing Like A Girl!
Rayne crept into the house quietly, hoping, praying her father wasn't awake.
"Hey bitch!"
Prayers suck. Her father advanced on her as Rayne stood her ground.
"Have fun at work? You've been pretty bad, sneaking out on me like that." her father slurred.
"One of us has to work." Rayne said softly, trying to get past him to her room.
"Whatchu' say bitch?!" A blow landed on her shoulder, knocking her back. Not until she was graced with a black eye and a bruised stomach did he leave her, tearless and numb, on the carpet in the living room. Once he was in bed, Rayne dragged herself to her feet, going to her own room. She quickly packed a small backpack, and grabbed her guitar case. She left, and not a tear did she shed. She hoped that John would take her in for the night as she rang the doorbell on his small complex. When John answered it, rubbing his eyes and clad in boxers, that, was when she started crying. John's eyes softened knowingly as he brought the crying, broken girl inside, and made her a cup of tea.
"Dad?"
"Y-yeah."
"You left?"
"Y-yes. C-Could I stay here for tonight?" Rayne asked quietly.
John smiled, hugging her tight. "You can stay here forever as far as I'm concerned. You have a fever sweetheart..." he added worriedly as he felt her forehead. "And bruises everywhere...have a shower and then take some Motrin, okay?"
"Ok-okay. Thank you so much..." Rayne mumbled. John hugged her again.
"Not a problem sweetheart."
&&&*&
Bob awoke to a strange sensation the next morning. Frank's face was buried in his chest, one of his legs between the drummers. His tattooed arms were clenched tightly around Bob's waist, and Bob could feel the slow tickle of his breathing against his chest. Bob smiled, barely restraining himself from placing a kiss on his friend's forehead. Frank stirred, sighing and whimpering softly as he hugged Bob even closer.
Bob slowly pried the guitarist off of his leg and chest, and carefully stepped over him and out of the bunk. He yawned, stretching. Perfect way to start the day.
Ray toasted a beer in Gerard's direction as the vocalist walked to the front of the bus. Gerard's eyes narrowed, and he swiftly snatched the beer out of his lead guitarist's hand. "No alcohol before breakfast." he said firmly as someone timidly knocked on the door of the bus.
Mikey went to answer it, and Ray hung over his shoulder, curious. It was the tech Ray had yelled at yesterday, John.
"I'm...sorry, did I wake anyone up?" John asked apprehensively while Bob yawned, scratching his side. Mikey shook his head, and John continued. "Rayne probably won't be here today."
"What? Why?" Gerard asked in confusion. In the back of Ray's mind, he could have sworn he felt disappointed. Could have, being the key words.
"She's...um, I sorta' can't tell you." John said, flushing a dark red.
"Look dude, we've all had chick friends, we know they have periods--" Gerard began, but John frantically shook his head.
"No no, nothing so inconsequential as menstruation! She's er, sick."
"Like, pregnant sick?"
"No! She has a fever..."
"So she's got a virus?"
"Well, not exactly..."
The interrogation went on, until John finally slipped up.
"--bruise on her left eye and--"
"Wait! Hold it!" Gerard said sternly. "Bruise from what? She didn't have one last night."
John blushed again. "Ah, I think if Rayne comes in today, she'll tell you herself." he mumbled. "She just told me to say that she was sick and probably wouldn't be here."
"Okay. Thanks." Mikey said as John scurried off.
"Rayne's hurt?" Bob asked, yawning again. Ray had another beer in his left hand, and a piece of cold pizza in his right, alternating between food and death.
Gerard nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. The roar of a dirtbike interrupted his contemplation, and another knock sounded on the bus door. Frank bounded over, opening it.
"Rayne! You're alive!" he shrieked, hugging the surprised girl.
"Yeah, 'm fine. How are you guys? You're just getting up?" Rayne asked incredulously.
Mikey shrugged, taking another bite of pizza. "Beats getting up early and being twice as tired." he said wisely. "Your brother said you have a fever; did it break?"
Rayne shook her head, sitting down gingerly on the couch. "Nope. But I can muscle through it."
"Just take it easy sugar. We don't need you passing out on us." Gerard said gently as Ray continued to wolf down more pizza.
"Jeah! 'Cuz shat would shuck!" Ray said around a mouthful of pizza. Rayne shot him a rather contemptuous look.
"My dear loathsome fellow. You need to swallow your food, and take smaller bites. Otherwise, you'll choke and die. And I'll laugh. Please don't make me laugh. I have bruised ribs and an injured stomach, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't die." she said coolly. Ray gave her the finger, swigging off a can of beer.
"Shurrup, I'm gettin' sober." he grunted.
"The only thing you're getting is plastered. Go take a fucking shower, you smell like an animal. You're not going into the studio unless you're washed and partially sentient." Rayne said sternly.
Ray sighed, grabbing one last piece of pizza before leaving for the showers. Gerard shot Rayne a sideways glance, noticing her rumpled appearance and badly concealed eye.
"Wanna' tell us what happened?" he asked quietly. Rayne groaned, putting her head in her hands.
"Noooo..." she mumbled.
"We can help, y'know?" Frank said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"You guys need to record." Rayne said curtly, standing and brushing herself off.
"Hey, take a break, huh?" Bob asked, pulling her back down onto the couch. "You need to relax. You work too much." he accused teasingly.
"Ware's mu' pahtz?" Ray slurred, starting to rummage through the bus's cupboards in nothing but his boxers. He was soaking wet still, from his shower. Frank sniggered, casually wandering over to Ray and slapping his ass.
Ray jumped, whirling on his grinning friend. The next thing that happened was completely unexpected. "You fuckin' queer!!" Ray roared furiously. Gerard started to get up as Frank looked confused.
"It was only a jo--" Ray punched Frank haphazardly in the gut, knocking the smaller man down.
Rayne leaped to her feet with a snarl. As Ray was still trying to keep his balance after his loose-cannon blow, Rayne tackled him, pinning him to the floor. Ray stared up at her in shock.
"You never--ever!!--do that again!!" she yelled in his face, completely livid. Ray shook her off, getting up.
"Fucksou, bitch." he muttered.
"Learn to talk. You guys need to start tuning up. I'll be inside." Rayne said, stalking off the bus.
Bob gently rubbed Frank's stomach as the short guitarist whimpered in pain, shooting Ray a death glare. "Ray, your dumbass addiction is hurting people!" he spat as Frank gasped, managing to sit up.
"That’s it. You've hurt someone now, the rules are fucking changing. No beer anymore Ray." Gerard growled, snatching the can out of Ray's hand and pouring it down the sink.
"When you hurt them, the rules definitely change."
&&&*&
Once the other band members had completely purged the bus, they went inside to record, dragging a rather miffed Ray with them.
Coming down from the alcohol, Ray once again found himself sitting outside the glass window, watching his best friends perform as he grew more and more sober. He sniffled yet again, watching as Frank moved slowly, still tender from the blow he had received.
Dammitall Ray, you can fix this! You scared the shit out of them, you're loosing your place in the band! his mind screamed. Ray nodded.
&&&*&
The band broke for lunch and a bathroom break. Only Rayne stayed in the recording room, looking up briefly as Ray came in.
"I--I'm sorry." Ray whispered.
Rayne got to her feet, wincing in pain. "I want to get something straight. Even though it may not seem like it now, I was doing you a favor earlier. Yesterday too. You keep going like this, you'll get permanently addicted. I don't want to...I don't wanna' see..." Rayne blinked slowly, her words trailing off.
"Rayne?" Ray caught her as she fell. "Rayne!" He quickly felt her forehead. "Fuck!" It was incredibly hot. He glanced around the room for water, any kind. Nothing.
He heaved a sigh, picking up her limp form in his arms. Only one other place he could be sure of a water supply, unless he wanted to spend days searching for a bubbler.
The men's room.
"Hey bitch!"
Prayers suck. Her father advanced on her as Rayne stood her ground.
"Have fun at work? You've been pretty bad, sneaking out on me like that." her father slurred.
"One of us has to work." Rayne said softly, trying to get past him to her room.
"Whatchu' say bitch?!" A blow landed on her shoulder, knocking her back. Not until she was graced with a black eye and a bruised stomach did he leave her, tearless and numb, on the carpet in the living room. Once he was in bed, Rayne dragged herself to her feet, going to her own room. She quickly packed a small backpack, and grabbed her guitar case. She left, and not a tear did she shed. She hoped that John would take her in for the night as she rang the doorbell on his small complex. When John answered it, rubbing his eyes and clad in boxers, that, was when she started crying. John's eyes softened knowingly as he brought the crying, broken girl inside, and made her a cup of tea.
"Dad?"
"Y-yeah."
"You left?"
"Y-yes. C-Could I stay here for tonight?" Rayne asked quietly.
John smiled, hugging her tight. "You can stay here forever as far as I'm concerned. You have a fever sweetheart..." he added worriedly as he felt her forehead. "And bruises everywhere...have a shower and then take some Motrin, okay?"
"Ok-okay. Thank you so much..." Rayne mumbled. John hugged her again.
"Not a problem sweetheart."
&&&*&
Bob awoke to a strange sensation the next morning. Frank's face was buried in his chest, one of his legs between the drummers. His tattooed arms were clenched tightly around Bob's waist, and Bob could feel the slow tickle of his breathing against his chest. Bob smiled, barely restraining himself from placing a kiss on his friend's forehead. Frank stirred, sighing and whimpering softly as he hugged Bob even closer.
Bob slowly pried the guitarist off of his leg and chest, and carefully stepped over him and out of the bunk. He yawned, stretching. Perfect way to start the day.
Ray toasted a beer in Gerard's direction as the vocalist walked to the front of the bus. Gerard's eyes narrowed, and he swiftly snatched the beer out of his lead guitarist's hand. "No alcohol before breakfast." he said firmly as someone timidly knocked on the door of the bus.
Mikey went to answer it, and Ray hung over his shoulder, curious. It was the tech Ray had yelled at yesterday, John.
"I'm...sorry, did I wake anyone up?" John asked apprehensively while Bob yawned, scratching his side. Mikey shook his head, and John continued. "Rayne probably won't be here today."
"What? Why?" Gerard asked in confusion. In the back of Ray's mind, he could have sworn he felt disappointed. Could have, being the key words.
"She's...um, I sorta' can't tell you." John said, flushing a dark red.
"Look dude, we've all had chick friends, we know they have periods--" Gerard began, but John frantically shook his head.
"No no, nothing so inconsequential as menstruation! She's er, sick."
"Like, pregnant sick?"
"No! She has a fever..."
"So she's got a virus?"
"Well, not exactly..."
The interrogation went on, until John finally slipped up.
"--bruise on her left eye and--"
"Wait! Hold it!" Gerard said sternly. "Bruise from what? She didn't have one last night."
John blushed again. "Ah, I think if Rayne comes in today, she'll tell you herself." he mumbled. "She just told me to say that she was sick and probably wouldn't be here."
"Okay. Thanks." Mikey said as John scurried off.
"Rayne's hurt?" Bob asked, yawning again. Ray had another beer in his left hand, and a piece of cold pizza in his right, alternating between food and death.
Gerard nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. The roar of a dirtbike interrupted his contemplation, and another knock sounded on the bus door. Frank bounded over, opening it.
"Rayne! You're alive!" he shrieked, hugging the surprised girl.
"Yeah, 'm fine. How are you guys? You're just getting up?" Rayne asked incredulously.
Mikey shrugged, taking another bite of pizza. "Beats getting up early and being twice as tired." he said wisely. "Your brother said you have a fever; did it break?"
Rayne shook her head, sitting down gingerly on the couch. "Nope. But I can muscle through it."
"Just take it easy sugar. We don't need you passing out on us." Gerard said gently as Ray continued to wolf down more pizza.
"Jeah! 'Cuz shat would shuck!" Ray said around a mouthful of pizza. Rayne shot him a rather contemptuous look.
"My dear loathsome fellow. You need to swallow your food, and take smaller bites. Otherwise, you'll choke and die. And I'll laugh. Please don't make me laugh. I have bruised ribs and an injured stomach, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't die." she said coolly. Ray gave her the finger, swigging off a can of beer.
"Shurrup, I'm gettin' sober." he grunted.
"The only thing you're getting is plastered. Go take a fucking shower, you smell like an animal. You're not going into the studio unless you're washed and partially sentient." Rayne said sternly.
Ray sighed, grabbing one last piece of pizza before leaving for the showers. Gerard shot Rayne a sideways glance, noticing her rumpled appearance and badly concealed eye.
"Wanna' tell us what happened?" he asked quietly. Rayne groaned, putting her head in her hands.
"Noooo..." she mumbled.
"We can help, y'know?" Frank said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"You guys need to record." Rayne said curtly, standing and brushing herself off.
"Hey, take a break, huh?" Bob asked, pulling her back down onto the couch. "You need to relax. You work too much." he accused teasingly.
"Ware's mu' pahtz?" Ray slurred, starting to rummage through the bus's cupboards in nothing but his boxers. He was soaking wet still, from his shower. Frank sniggered, casually wandering over to Ray and slapping his ass.
Ray jumped, whirling on his grinning friend. The next thing that happened was completely unexpected. "You fuckin' queer!!" Ray roared furiously. Gerard started to get up as Frank looked confused.
"It was only a jo--" Ray punched Frank haphazardly in the gut, knocking the smaller man down.
Rayne leaped to her feet with a snarl. As Ray was still trying to keep his balance after his loose-cannon blow, Rayne tackled him, pinning him to the floor. Ray stared up at her in shock.
"You never--ever!!--do that again!!" she yelled in his face, completely livid. Ray shook her off, getting up.
"Fucksou, bitch." he muttered.
"Learn to talk. You guys need to start tuning up. I'll be inside." Rayne said, stalking off the bus.
Bob gently rubbed Frank's stomach as the short guitarist whimpered in pain, shooting Ray a death glare. "Ray, your dumbass addiction is hurting people!" he spat as Frank gasped, managing to sit up.
"That’s it. You've hurt someone now, the rules are fucking changing. No beer anymore Ray." Gerard growled, snatching the can out of Ray's hand and pouring it down the sink.
"When you hurt them, the rules definitely change."
&&&*&
Once the other band members had completely purged the bus, they went inside to record, dragging a rather miffed Ray with them.
Coming down from the alcohol, Ray once again found himself sitting outside the glass window, watching his best friends perform as he grew more and more sober. He sniffled yet again, watching as Frank moved slowly, still tender from the blow he had received.
Dammitall Ray, you can fix this! You scared the shit out of them, you're loosing your place in the band! his mind screamed. Ray nodded.
&&&*&
The band broke for lunch and a bathroom break. Only Rayne stayed in the recording room, looking up briefly as Ray came in.
"I--I'm sorry." Ray whispered.
Rayne got to her feet, wincing in pain. "I want to get something straight. Even though it may not seem like it now, I was doing you a favor earlier. Yesterday too. You keep going like this, you'll get permanently addicted. I don't want to...I don't wanna' see..." Rayne blinked slowly, her words trailing off.
"Rayne?" Ray caught her as she fell. "Rayne!" He quickly felt her forehead. "Fuck!" It was incredibly hot. He glanced around the room for water, any kind. Nothing.
He heaved a sigh, picking up her limp form in his arms. Only one other place he could be sure of a water supply, unless he wanted to spend days searching for a bubbler.
The men's room.
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